A Not Pointless Little HurtComfort Fic
by Syntyche
Summary: I think the title pretty much sums it up. A wounded Padawan, an angsty Jedi Master, and some good old h/c without too much plot to get in the way.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Notes:_ Spring cleaning! Like _New Arrangements_, this fic is one of several that has been languishing on my hard drive; though it has actually been completed for several years, I've never posted it. Maybe because the idea isn't exactly groundbreaking, maybe because it's really just a pointless little h/c that doesn't have a plot other than being a pointless little h/c, maybe because it's a bit rough in spots. but it is a finished fic, so updates will be fairly quick; reviews appreciated, encouraged, and shamelessly begged for.

I was going to title this story "A Pointless Little Hurt/Comfort Fic," but maybe that will just be the alternate title.

**Title: A Pointless Little Hurt/Comfort Fic** (I guess I was wrong. I can't think of anything prolific.)

**Author: **Syntyche

**Rating:** PG, mild violence

**Summary:** I think the title pretty much sums it up.

To anyone keeping an eye on my other fics, updates for New Arrangements and Unlikely Houseguest will be up sometime between tomorrow and the weekend. Possibly even the Rewrite. (_gasp!_) And the next chap of this fic if anyone is interested.

* * *

A Pointless Little Hurt/Comfort Fic

By: Syntyche

* * *

"Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan?"

"Hm?"

"What's the first line of the Jedi Code? Obi-Wan?"

"I don't know…"

"Yes, you do. Of course you do. What is it, Padawan?"

"I don't know … t-too tired."

"You do know, Obi-Wan, and you've known it since you were a child. What is it?"

"… n-no emotion – peace."

"Don't be lazy, Obi-Wan. Say it right."

"… There… is no e-emotion. Th-there is, is p-peace..."

"Good. Second line."

"I … I don't… remember it…"

"_**Obi-Wan**_."

"P-please. I …don't r-remember, Q- .. Q- … " Frustration tumbled through Obi-Wan's exhausted voice before the Padawan sighed brokenly, "… mmmaster…"

"That's not true, Obi-Wan;" Qui-Gon replied, forcing the desperate edge from his tone, knowing any agitation on his part would just upset Obi-Wan further. "You're just being stubborn – as usual," he chided sternly. "The second line. Now."

An aggravated breath, then, "Th-th- … there is … is … there is … please, Master, I … I d-don't know. I d-don't re-remember! _I don't remember_ … "

Obi-Wan's vague answers finally faded to little more than an incoherent mumble. In the darkness, Qui-Gon Jinn couldn't see his Padawan's face, but the ache and fatigue in Obi-Wan's weak voice he could hear all too clearly. The Jedi Master's heart twisted brutally as he tightened his grip on the sodden, freezing young man in his arms, and he compelled himself to again infuse a steel-like timbre into his suddenly uneven voice.

"The second line, Obi-Wan," he made himself order his Padawan. "Think. Say it. You need to concentrate and stay awake."

Obi-Wan Kenobi had just wearily opened his mouth to speak when Qui-Gon felt the young Jedi's sluggish body suddenly tense as a fierce shudder ripped through it. Qui-Gon hurriedly gripped his apprentice's biceps tightly and held him against his broad chest until Obi-Wan's trembling ceased and the young man was limply still, drooping listlessly against Qui-Gon's muscular forearms. Qui-Gon breathed a silent prayer of relief that the latest tremor had ended, and he carded his thick fingers through Obi-Wan's short damp hair reassuringly.

"It's okay, Obi-Wan. It's okay."

Then the coughing started.

Horrid, vicious hacking coughs that worked their way up from the damaged chest and ravaged throat to wrench their way past clenched teeth and hang wetly in the chilled air tore at the helpless Jedi Master as Obi-Wan jerked and writhed and tried to double over. Qui-Gon frantically rubbed at his apprentice's back through his soaked tunics.

"It's okay. It's okay, Obi-Wan. Try to stay calm, it's okay," he repeated over and over, trying to soothe his apprentice, but fresh terror laced his voice despite his efforts and the air surrounding them was suddenly charged with fear. Obi-Wan coughed harder, clawing weakly at Qui-Gon's large hands as if even their gentle support was too constricting against his chest and Qui-Gon shifted his grip, hating but ignoring for the moment the moisture that built up behind his eyelids and overflowed to slide down his bearded cheek. Finally Obi-Wan's coughing subsided and he sagged against his Master, his head lolling against Qui-Gon's chest as his exhausted body gave up the fight to remain upright.

Qui-Gon slowly willed his own breathing to return to normal as he gently stroked the long braid draped over the strong shoulder, afraid to touch his apprentice anywhere else lest he bring him further harm. He could hear Obi-Wan's rasping, shallow breaths, but the inky darkness prevented him from seeing even the face of the young man clutched in his arms.

His breathing was under control but he didn't have time to wait until his voice was steady enough to speak. Swallowing against the quaver in his tone, Qui-Gon commanded gently, "Obi-Wan, you need to stay awake."

"But Master, I'm s-so tired." Obi-Wan's weak voice vouched a soft objection. "P-please … "

A whisper of a frosty breeze ghosted through the small underground cavern they were hidden in and caressed Obi-Wan's damp hair, raising a frail protest as Obi-Wan shivered hard in response. The back of Qui-Gon's hand contacted the icy flesh of Obi-Wan's cheek and the Jedi Master sent a silent prayer upwards to the heavens; Obi-Wan's skin was so very cold. He didn't think they had much more time.

"The second line, Obi-Wan. Now."

Silence was his only reply.

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If you made it this far, please review!


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the great response! _**Why**_ wasn't this fic posted earlier, Xaja Silversheen was kind enough to question? I don't know. My hard drive is a veritable bounty of Obi-Wan angst written over the past several years, snatches and thoughts and half-finished pieces like a version of _Prometheus Bound_ (now with 100% more Obi-Wan angst than the original _Prometheus Bound_!!!), a story about Obi-Wan in tights (not even better than it sounds, lol), and a murder mystery. So the fact that this fic ever saw the light of day is actually kind of amazing.

Thanks, also, to Estora and TheMacUnleashed for graciously suggesting that the title doesn't do the fic justice – the title is actually more a wry poke at my inability to title fics (See: "TPM Tatooine Rewrite.") I did update it to include the word "Not," though, so I hope that helps.

Please leave a comment after reading – I'm not saying that reviews feed the Muse, increase the angst, and decrease the time between posting, but I'm also not saying that they _**don't**_do those things, either… ;)

* * *

A Not Pointless Little Hurt/Comfort Fic

By: Syntyche

* * *

"Obi-Wan, the second line of the Jedi Code, _**now**_!"

Qui-Gon jostled Obi-Wan just gently, but there was no response from the hunched figure in his arms other than Obi-Wan's labored breathing. Qui-Gon swallowed hard, willing calm to bleed through his body and ease the tightly banded tension that had wrapped his muscles in agonizing knots. "Or the third, if you like," he compromised willingly, almost pathetically eager to elicit some sort of response from his Padawan.

"Can you do that, Obi-Wan?"

Force, it was so cold.

As he sat in the muddy, sodden remains of the creekbed he and Obi-Wan had literally stumbled into, the sticky mud clinging to him leeching the remaining warmth from his body, Qui-Gon remembered running – he and Obi-Wan had been running, trying desperately to avoid being gunned down in the dark night. Their cover had been blown, and with their lightsabers safely stored on the Republic vessel that was due back to retrieve them, they had had no choice but to run; they had made it beyond the outskirts of town, headed for the concealed location where their contact awaited their signal to notify the Republic vessel they were ready to go home.

They had almost made it when the alarm was raised that they had disappeared.

He remembered running in the grasping darkness, the chill in the air stealing the breath from his lungs. He remembered being separated from Obi-Wan as they dodged bright laser blasts that lit up the dark night.

He remembered that it had been raining when he had seen in his peripheral vision the vivid bolt of red that took his Padawan down.

Qui-Gon swallowed, his throat clicking dryly, but he couldn't avoid the images that assailed him. "The third line, Obi-Wan; come on, say it. Stay awake."

Qui-Gon remembered screaming his Padawan's name as his voice was snapped away by the cruel wind; stopping, slipping in the wet grass. Going back to where Obi-Wan was crumpled in an unmoving heap, retrieving his precious burden, and running again, Obi-Wan's compact weight straining at his forearms and slowing them down miserably as the Jedi Master's feet struggled to find purchase on the slick ground.

"Obi-Wan, what did I say about staying awake??"

His voice was desperate now and the hoarse edge to it gnawed at him – he knew he had to be strong for his Padawan. He could no longer hear Obi-Wan's grating breaths and Qui-Gon jarred him a little harder, coaxing, cajoling, and trying to speak past the tightness in his throat.

He remembered realizing that he would never outrun their pursuers with Obi-Wan's limp weight slowing him down. He'd tucked his injured Padawan into a small hollow in the base of a tree obscured by darkness, and he remembered drawing a deep breath and quieting Obi-Wan's weak protests before taking off into the cold night, racing through the crisp air and drawing their pursuers away from his Padawan.

"Come on, Obi-Wan, you're not giving up on me. The third line – or perhaps the fourth??"

Jostling Obi-Wan wasn't working. Qui-Gon laid his Padawan's body as far back as possible and leaned into Obi-Wan's scored chest, listening anxiously for the steady reassurance of a regular heartbeat. He heard nothing, but he remembered losing their pursuers and returning to where he'd hidden his Padawan only to find Obi-Wan gone. Frantically he'd followed the weak signature of his Padawan to a small, partially obscured underground cavern. The muddy edge was slick and his boots skidded wildly as he struggled to descend slowly; he managed only through a controlled slide to reach the bottom without injuring himself too badly.

As he'd slipped and slid his way down the steep incline, a pained grunt escaped him when he landed with a muffled thud on one knee at the bottom. Instantly he sank into the thick, cold muddy sludge that was all that remained of a once rushing creek. The mud wasn't deep, but it threw him off-balance and one hand went out to halt his forward momentum and keep him from pitching onto his face.

Qui-Gon remembered that he had instantly recoiled, horrified when his outstretched hand struck the firm form of an unconscious body. Fumbling in the darkness, Qui-Gon carefully turned the limp figure into a supine position and ran gentle fingers over the slack but recognizable facial features. His heart thudded in his chest as he traced the high forehead, the thin face, and the familiar cleft chin of his Padawan. He had encountered a thick coat of mud on one half of Obi-Wan's face, and a keening moan of distress escaped him involuntarily as he focused on cleaning the offending mire away from Obi-Wan's nose and mouth.

Obi-Wan's chest continued to rise and fall, but his breath bubbled from his throat in gurgling gasps that suggested he'd ingested some of the thick mud. Qui-Gon knew he wasn't being as gentle as he could have, but anxiety drove his movements with a force born of fear. His breath caught in his throat and he expelled it in a rush of fog in the chilled air…

All of this that had transpired the night before, Qui-Gon remembered in an instant as he continued to battle Obi-Wan as his Padawan stubbornly refused to breathe. He shook the young man, hard.

"Obi-Wan! Damn it! Breathe, damn you!"

His trembling fingers slid through the mud coating his Padawan's chest until he located the ragged tunic edges near Obi-Wan's right side that disclosed where the blaster bolt had drilled into the young man. Obi-Wan's body jerked in his arms in reflex to Qui-Gon's probing fingers, but no life was evident in the otherwise still form. Acting solely from desperation, Qui-Gon shook his Padawan again fiercely and Obi-Wan's head snapped against the Jedi Master's torso. Qui-Gon cupped his hand and struck just above the damaged side, above the rent tunic in an attempt to shock Obi-Wan's body into breathing again. Again he cuffed Obi-Wan's chest solidly, and again when no response came from the silent, sodden young Jedi.

"Damn it, Obi-Wan, I mean it!"

Qui-Gon paid no attention to the tears that tore at his eyes or the way his voice cracked or even the way the cold and mud slowly stole the heat from his body as he knelt with his apprentice tucked into his arm. Once more his cupped hand connected with Obi-Wan's chest, and Qui-Gon's heart nearly exploded in relief when Obi-Wan shuddered convulsively, his body pitching forward as the sound of wet retching reached Qui-Gon's ears.

"Obi-Wan," he breathed his student's name in unspeakable relief. His own body quivered from the rush of adrenaline that had coursed through him and now he shivered uncontrollably from the monstrous tear of agony as it slowly seeped from him. For a moment he did nothing but hold Obi-Wan's shoulders as the young man gagged and spat and finally slumped back in utter fatigue, his wheezing gasps for air filling the space between them. "It's okay," he whispered, unwanted tears streaking down his cheeks, a blend of exhausted gratitude and despair. He tucked Obi-Wan protectively to his chest, stroking his damp hair and murmuring soothing words and apologies for being so harsh and simply listening as his Padawan slowly resumed the struggle to breathe.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Oh. I guess this chapter was why I didn't post it before. I didn't think I could make the flashbacks not confusing.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Me??**_ Kill Obi-Wan? I would _**never**_ … uh … well, okay, I may have killed him off in two out of fifteen stories (with five stories in-progress, so I guess the potential for Obi-Wan kill offage is there too), but I don't know where anyone would have gotten the impression that I might kill off Obi-Wan in this fic (or the other four.) Really. Well, okay, I might.

I was going to wait and post this, you know, to build up dramatic effect, but then I thought, why?

* * *

A Not-Pointless Little Hurt/Comfort Fic

By: Syntyche

* * *

Obi-Wan continued to fade.

Qui-Gon had decided that he would risk using his comlink to signal their contact; if their pursuers were able to trace the signal that would lead them here, then at least Qui-Gon would die along with his Padawan rather than endure this continued agony of watching his Obi-Wan's life ebb away before his eyes.

Obi-Wan was awake but in pain, and Qui-Gon selfishly tried to keep him conscious; he suddenly couldn't bear anymore of his Padawan's silence.

"That's good, Obi-Wan. That's just fine. Keep going. You're doing fine." He moved his hand down to stroke Obi-Wan's cheek and felt Obi-Wan's long eyelashes fluttering against his palm as his Padawan resignedly strove to obey his Master's request. "Come on, Obi-Wan," he crooned softly, "Talk to me. Stay with me, Padawan."

There was a weary breath against the palm that cupped the side of Obi-Wan's face and Qui-Gon felt his apprentice's lips moving haltingly.

"… no ignorance … – knowledge."

"Good! Good, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon encouraged, a glimmer of hope snaking its warm way through his chest – hope that was sorely tested as Obi-Wan was punished for his painstaking efforts by another bout of wet hacking. He whimpered and twisted as the fierce cough wrenched at the torn skin of his belly and Qui-Gon scrabbled to secure him without doing any further damage.

"It's okay," he resumed his panic-laced litany, "it's okay. Oh Force, where _**are**_ they??!" He couldn't help the frightened outburst and regretted it instantly when slim, cold fingers carefully sketched through the dark until they found and squeezed his own shaking hand.

"S'okay … 'm n-not afraid," Obi-Wan whispered hoarsely, the chatter returning to prolong his sentences.

Qui-Gon swallowed hard and clutched his apprentice's trembling fingers. Obi-Wan squeezed his hand again, and the feather-light grasp that was all that remained of his Padawan's strength made Qui-Gon's soul sink deeper into despair.

_But my Obi-Wan_, he thought helplessly, _I am_.

Qui-Gon listened to the harsh echo of Obi-Wan's breathing in the stillness of the cavern and shifted in the knee-deep mud to further cushion his apprentice. The chill was creeping farther into his tunics, and he could feel a tingling in his exposed skin that suggested hypothermia wasn't terribly far off.

Maybe he would die alongside his Padawan, after all.

"S'c-cold," Obi-Wan murmured plaintively, but as was usually the case with Qui-Gon's wry Padawan, it was more of a detached observation than a complaint.

"I know, Obi-Wan" Qui-Gon answered, raising his voice to be heard by his apprentice. "I know." He shifted Obi-Wan nimbly and rubbed his Padawan's arms briskly but carefully with the hand that wasn't cradling the shivering form. "I'm sorry."

"S'okay." Obi-Wan was silent for a moment, then mumbled, "Sh-should c-confess..."

Qui-Gon's heart thudded to a halt at the simple words. "Confess? Why, Obi-Wan?"

The Jedi Master felt his Padawan's half-smile against his chest as a corner of Obi-Wan's mouth lifted.

"Probably not going to make it," Obi-Wan whispered, but to Qui-Gon's amazement he could detect a tiny vein of humor of the words. The air surrounding them rippled as Obi-Wan drew energy to himself to finish speaking. "In v-vids … n-now would be … good t-time for con… confession."

"That's not funny." Qui-Gon admonished sternly, displeased with Obi-Wan for taking his situation so lightly. "There's no need for it – we'll be out of here soon, I promise."

"O-kay," Obi-Wan agreed politely, immediately jerking away from Qui-Gon to release a few more horrid coughs into the frigid air. Qui-Gon closed his eyes, holding his Padawan loosely and swallowing repeatedly to keep at bay the gut-wrenching nausea that crowded his stomach.

Obi-Wan was dying. He was losing his Padawan.

"Should p-probably c-confess," Obi-Wan stated dryly, curling back into the scarce warmth of his Master's thick robe once his coughing had settled back down.

"All right, I'll humor you," Qui-Gon tried to sound amused, but Force it was so hard. "Go ahead if it'll make you feel better."

There was silence for a moment, but Qui-Gon could see faintly in the dim light the glittering of Obi-Wan's bright eyes so he knew his Padawan was still conscious.

"Well?" he said after a moment.

"Thinking," Obi-Wan responded shortly. "N-not easy wh-when one is … is a p-perfect P-Padawan." There was a smile in the young Jedi's voice that Qui-Gon ached to hear, though he knew he should be proud his Padawan was handling his impending joining the Force so calmly.

Slowly, he rubbed Obi-Wan's back. "It's true, Little One," he smiled around his grief. "What evils could you possibly have to confess? Salt in the sugar bowl? Joyriding around Coruscant in Mace's speeder?"

There was a pause from his Padawan in which Qui-Gon immediately began to panic, but he relaxed marginally when he realized that Obi-Wan was merely gathering himself to speak again.

"N-not always … p-perfect, Master. T-Too … too depen..dent on people… and needing h-help." Obi-Wan's full mouth screwed into a frown as he considered his confession. "Too s-sensitive," he finished in a disgusted murmur.

Qui-Gon frowned, squeezing Obi-Wan's sopping shoulders carefully, understanding the emotion behind the young Jedi's words. He often had the opposite problem.

"Well, Padawan, it's better than being cold and unfeeling, like me," he refuted ruefully, and if he had expected Obi-Wan to immediately deny his declaration, he was bitterly disappointed. Obi-Wan instead seemed to consider carefully his Master's words, and Qui-Gon felt his heart tighten, just a little. When Obi-Wan finally did reply, his words only furthered the ache that had settled in the Jedi Master's heart.

"'s okay," he murmured, very softly. "I know wh-what you …d-don't say."

All was silent until he spoke again, hesitantly. "So – s-so c-cold. You sh… should g-go."

Qui-Gon knew that Obi-Wan was offering him the chance to seek help without feeling remorse for abandoning his Padawan, but he shook his head firmly. "No. I'm not leaving you."

"Wh...y?" Obi-Wan forced the words past gritted teeth, his words stunted and tumbling out in short gasps of breath. "I'm … pr… pr..actically having a … v-vaca..tion h-here … "

"Yes, I see that," Qui-Gon responded sardonically, wearily resting his head against the chilly rock wall behind him. "but someone has to keep you from playing in the mud, as you appear to like doing." Force … it was getting hard for him to stay awake … how long had they been down here? It felt like forever…

_Stay focused!_ he urged himself vehemently. _Obi-Wan needs you! Keep him awake!_

"Besides, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon allowed himself the tiniest of smiles as he took in the image of his strong, confident Padawan swaddled in the extra folds of his Master's large robe like a child, with only the pale gleam of his eyes visible from the depths of the warm brown fabric. "You look so cute I just hate to leave you, just like a little Sullustan baby – all eyes."

"Ha, haaaa," was Obi-Wan's reply, but he managed to infuse enough sarcasm into the words that he didn't need to elaborate. "Sssso … f-fun..ny..."

Qui-Gon smiled again. "Also, I twisted my knee when I fell down here looking for you and I can't walk on it."

"Oh. I kn..ew th-that …b-baby th..ing w-wasn't … the r-real r-rea..son," Obi-Wan complained in a disgruntled chatter of teeth.

"Well, it was the primary reason," Qui-Gon returned amiably, enjoying the easy banter as it let him know his Padawan was still awake and coherent, even retaining some of his humor – though Force knew they didn't have anything to be glad about at the moment.

The silence was broken when Obi-Wan's stiff fingers twitched at Qui-Gon's damp tunics.

"Master," he breathed warily, just a hint of fear edging his fading voice. Qui-Gon immediately tensed.

"What is it, Obi-Wan?"

"I th..ink … th-e Force is … is c-calling…" Obi-Wan whispered, and one long finger reached up to stab gently at the tear that slid down his Master's cheek.

"_**No**_," Qui-Gon could barely get the word out. "Obi-Wan, no, _**please**_… "

"I d-don't w-wa..nt to … c-can't.. ho..ld on. So ..so.. s-sorry," Obi-Wan murmured, even as Qui-Gon could feel his Padawan sliding away, deeper and further, slipping beyond the anguish of his near-frozen and ravaged body, and the Jedi Master who had cared for him since he was a child.

Qui-Gon could do little more than stare helplessly, gripping Obi-Wan tightly to his chest, until he caught a tendril of Obi-Wan's fear snaking through the cold air. Gently he stroked his Padawan's hair, managing a tiny smile through his unabashed tears. "Don't be afraid, my Obi-Wan," he whispered, "Don't be afraid. I love you, always."

Obi-Wan smiled.

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Final chap up sometime next week, I just have to finish formatting it. Thanks for the great response - please review this chap if you made it this far!


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you to everyone who has left and will leave comments for this fic – it has definitely been a nudge to get those other fics off my hard drive! … as soon as I wrap up the other eight stories still in progress … or at least a few of them…

* * *

A Not Pointless Little Hurt/Comfort Fic

By: Syntyche

* * *

"Master Jinn… Master Jinn, you have to let him go."

The familiar voice drifted across his hearing and Qui-Gon felt like it was coming from a great distance; the Jedi Master moaned as the horror of the past day crested over him exhaustingly, and he tightened his grip on Obi-Wan's cold body fearfully.

"No," he breathed hoarsely, still managing to inject forcefulness into his fading voice. "I won't let you take him away."

A sob broke from his throat – _Force,__ Obi-Wan was gone… he had left him… it wasn't supposed to be this way… this was wrong…_

All traces of softness and gentle compelling vanished. "Qui-Gon, _**let go, NOW!**_"

"_**NO**_!!"

Enraged, disoriented, the Jedi Master fumbled for a lightsaber that wasn't in its usual place at his side, snarling in frustrated rage at the intruding hands that were reaching for him, trying to pin him, trying to take Obi-Wan away.

An unexpected pain exploded against his cheek and his hand shot to his face; in his brief moment of incomprehension, Obi-Wan's still body was yanked from his grip, leaving behind a horrid emptiness in the only warmth Qui-Gon had felt.

"NO!!!" Qui-Gon screamed, the rasp in his voice sharpening the desperation in his tone. "_**NOOOOOO**_!!! _**OBI-WAN**_!!!"

"He's already gone, Qui-Gon, pull yourself together!" snapped the voice that the only rational thread in the Jedi's mind quietly identified as Mace Windu's. "We have to get out of here! Now!"

Apparently, a part of Qui-Gon's brain agreed with this sentiment – _though_, he thought with a satisfied sigh, _perhaps not the way Mace intended_: darkness was swirling before his eyes, calling, whispering, _offering_ a release from the hideous aching bareness where his Padawan's body should have been beside him and where Obi-Wan's Signature had once been emblazoned in his mind.

Qui-Gon happily gave in and sank willingly into blackness.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Well, I hope you're pleased with yourself."

Mace sounded even less cheerful than the last time Qui-Gon had heard him, and that was saying something.

The Jedi Master easily sensed that he was in the Healer's Ward, resting on one of the patient beds. A weary inventory confirmed that someone had seen to his knee; it was nicely pain-free, the ache taken care of, and his cheek no longer stung where Mace had struck him to make him release Obi-Wan's body. If only everywhere else didn't hurt so much. If only his entire being wasn't oscillating with the dreadful wound of losing his Padawan.

"Go away," Qui-Gon grated bitterly, refusing to open his eyes. Mace had taken Obi-Wan from him – he would not give his old friend the satisfaction of courtesy.

"I will not," Mace replied gruffly, and Qui-Gon was maliciously glad for the flash of irritation in the normally implacable Council member's voice. "Do you realize you caused quite the scene? We barely got you out of there without any further injuries."

"What does it matter what happened to me?" Qui-Gon ground out wearily, wishing Mace would just go away. "You should have left me there."

"If you're going to be that thankless, I'm sorry we didn't," Mace retorted. "But we still needed to get Obi-Wan out; you should have at least wanted that, whatever your personal death wish is."

"I wanted to die with him," Qui-Gon whispered, his aching heart slowly clenching, weeping the tears he would not permit himself to shed in the openness of the Healer's Ward. Having Obi-Wan's amused and exuberant Signature ripped away felt like an entire chunk of his soul was missing, and the ragged edges crackled with his pain and loss.

"Qui-Gon, he's not dead," Mace interjected bluntly, and then, concerned: "Is that what this is about?"

_What?_

Qui-Gon's eyes popped open in shock. "What?" he repeated aloud, finally focusing on the Council member standing by his bedside. Mace sighed heavily, and Qui-Gon realized he wasn't going to be pleased by Windu's next words – but if Obi-Wan was alive, that was something, wasn't it?

"Obi-Wan isn't dead, Qui-Gon," Mace clarified hesitantly, quickly holding up a hand when Qui-Gon immediately struggled to push up onto his elbows. "But he's not good, Qui-Gon. He may not make it."

"Take me to him!!" Qui-Gon demanded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He barely acknowledged his mended knee as he gingerly tested his balance. It was good enough to get him to where Obi-Wan was, and he urged Mace on with an impatient look and gesture.

Tension formed a tight knot in Qui-Gon's stomach as Mace silently led him down the corridor to a brightly lit room where Jedi Healers were quietly but efficiently bent over Qui-Gon's Padawan, working quickly. Qui-Gon could see the chalky whiteness of Obi-Wan's face, stark against the dark robes of the Healers clustered around his bedside. To Qui-Gon's surprise, Master Yoda was perched carefully on a stool near Obi-Wan, his clawed fingers brushing through the disheveled mess of ginger spikes clinging limply to the Padawan's forehead as he quietly murmured words of comfort and healing.

"They've been trying to stabilize him for quite awhile," Mace explained softly, and the undercurrent of exhaustion in his tone led Qui-Gon to wonder if his old friend had been among those pouring energy into his Padawan, trying to save the young Jedi. Suddenly he felt a little ashamed at treating Mace so rudely earlier.

"Sometimes he's stable for a moment, and then he starts to slip away again," Mace continued gravely. "Right now we just want to get him to the point where he can rest in a bacta tank for awhile."

Qui-Gon nodded slowly; it wouldn't be Obi-Wan's first dip in a bacta tank, where the healing fluid would quickly regenerate damaged tissue; and though Qui-Gon had yet to meet anyone who actually enjoyed their time submerged in the sticky liquid, the healing properties of bacta were far beyond dispute.

"I want to help," he said immediately, and then another pressing question crowded into his mind. "Mace, why can't I sense him? I should be able to feel him through our bond."

Mace sighed, his attention still focused on Yoda and the other Jedi as they worked. "We had to give him an inhibitor," he murmured somberly. "Obi-Wan is a powerful Jedi, but he hasn't mastered his control completely … in a situation like this, where there are other mentally vulnerable Jedi here in the ward, we have to protect them as well and keep them from being subjected to Obi-Wan's unguarded power."

Qui-Gon nodded uncomfortably; he understood, but that didn't mean he was happy about it. He was about to step forward to assist when the Chief Healer straightened, exchanging a quick nod with Yoda.

"We're ready," she announced tightly. "We need to get him into the tank now."

They had stripped Obi-Wan down and now they fitted him with a breathing mask and prepared to move him. The urgency of Obi-Wan's status necessitated forgoing the usual courtesy of some sort of covering and Qui-Gon felt for his sensitive Padawan's dignity, but the young Jedi's survival was the immediate objective and if Obi-Wan lived to suffer humiliation at his current state then Qui-Gon would gladly listen to his Padawan's grumbling about it.

Qui-Gon watched tensely as the attentive Healers carefully but quickly slid Obi-Wan's naked, chilled body into the waiting, warm bacta. He could see through the clear tank where Obi-Wan's right flank had been savaged by the blaster fire and the gruesome ugliness of the wound made Qui-Gon's breath catch in his throat – but if Obi-Wan was now stable enough for the bacta, that had to indicate his chances for survival were much stronger...

As his head went under, completing his immersion into the upright bacta tank, Obi-Wan's eyes snapped open, terror filling their frightened depths and he immediately began clawing at his breathing mask, thrashing and twisting inside the tank.

"What's going on??" the Chief Healer demanded, startled. "Somebody get me a sedative! Hurry up!"

_...Obi-Wan's chest continued to rise and fall, but his breath bubbled from his throat in gurgling gasps that suggested he'd ingested some of the thick mud..._

"He's afraid," Qui-Gon realized in dawning horror, lurching over to the bacta tank. "He was choking on the mud when I found him and he's disoriented – he doesn't know where he is! Get him out! Get him out now!"

_...Obi-Wan! Damn it! Breathe, damn you!..._

The Chief Healer shook her head, her voice returning to calm even though her mouth had firmed into a thin, tense line. "We can't, Master Jinn – he needs that bacta _**now**_, or we're going lose him! I'll give him a sedative that should help."

Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan's thrashing escalated, the young Jedi pulling at and tearing the confining strips that had been placed over his wounds. The gelatinous bacta sloshed from the open top of the tank and splashed onto the floor, forming sticky puddles that the scrambling Healers tried hard to avoid.

"No! Damn it! No!! Get him out! Get him out!" Qui-Gon was getting frantic as Obi-Wan's frightened, confused eyes locked onto his and pleaded silently for release even as his scrabbling fingers grasped at the slick walls of the tank.

_...Damn it, Obi-Wan, I mean it!..._

"Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan, you mustn't panic!" he shouted to his Padawan, pressing up against the tank and trying to hold the panicked gaze of his apprentice. "Obi-Wan, please!"

Monitors screamed and Healers shouted. The clear bacta quickly tinged pink as Obi-Wan succeeded in pulling the bandages away from his midriff. The Padawan's mind was a cacophony of wild panic and Qui-Gon felt his own fear increase as Obi-Wan continued to struggle and fight to get out of the tank.

"Don't be afraid, Obi-Wan, please – please," Qui-Gon tried hard to catch his padawan's gaze. Without hesitation, the waiting Healer snatched the sedative-laden hypo as soon as it was ready and plunged her arm deep into the sticky bacta, slapping the hypo against Obi-Wan's neck and depressing the plunger.

Obi-Wan's thrashing slowed and his eyes rolled back as he slumped listlessly in the tank, much to the relief of the assembled Healers and Masters.

The Chief Healer shook her head, sponging the sticky bacta off of her arm with a towel as she ordered another Healer to cycle clean bacta through the tank to replace the now murky pinkness of the formerly clear liquid in Obi-Wan's tank. "I didn't want to have to sedate him that heavily; the mild sedative should have been enough to keep him under. We'll have to wait a bit before we can replace his bandages."

Qui-Gon felt a comforting tap on his hand and looked down to see Yoda standing silently beside him. The small Jedi Master's huge eyes glittered, suspiciously damp-looking, and Qui-Gon wondered if his own dull expression looked much the same. He turned his fatigued gaze back to his Padawan, unsure of what to say to own former Master.

"Lose young Obi-Wan, we will not," Yoda murmured encouragingly. "Much to do, this little one has yet."

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Okay … I guess there's one more chapter after this one. Oops. Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

So, as I occasionally do, this afternoon I thought, _you know what? Any stories that have been reviewed today I'll update by Saturday._ It's like my own little writing challenge to myself. To my surprise and somewhat wry amusement, three stories have been reviewed today so therefore I will do my best to update the other two in addition to this one.

This final chapter of "A Not Pointless Little Hurt/Comfort Fic" is dedicated to **Shanowa **for this morning's review. Shanowa is the author of the excellently dark "Scream," a great Obi-Wan fic that is based in the EU but thankfully one doesn't need to know the EU background to enjoy the story.

Thank you to **everyone** who took a bit out of their schedules to not only read this fic but also to let me know that you did. I too am sorry to see this story draw to a close, but gratefully acknowledge that its reception was far better than I had anticipated and I thank its very gracious readers for that.

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A Not Pointless Little Hurt/Comfort Fic

By: Syntyche

* * *

It was by far the most uncomfortable three days he had ever spent in succession, and that was saying something.

Obi-Wan was still heavily sedated – even after three days, he hadn't settled down enough while in the bacta tank for the Healers to ease back the doses of sedatives they were pumping into his system to prevent him from panicking and tearing off his breathing mask or bandages again.

So Qui-Gon waited, sometimes resting on a medical bed nearby, mostly meditating or pacing. The ache in his knee had returned from his renewed movement, but he ignored it; the Healers urged him to return to his quarters, promised they would notify him when Obi-Wan awoke, but Qui-Gon ignored them. He needed to be with his Padawan, needed to be there when Obi-Wan's eyes opened and see for himself that they were again clear and focused, that his Padawan really _**had**_ survived the blaster bolt that had torn a chunk from his unprotected side.

The Chief Healer thought Obi-Wan would be able to leave the confines of the bacta tank today, and Qui-Gon had already requested the responsibility of cleaning up his Padawan and watching over him to make sure Obi-Wan would not suffer any lasting damage from either his injury or thrashing around in the tank as he had. To that end, Qui-Gon had carefully collected soft cloths and readied a basin for warm water with which to clean away the remnants of bacta that would stick to Obi-Wan once he was removed from the bacta tank.

As he waited for the Healers came to take Obi-Wan out, he prayed quietly that the Padawan who opened his eyes would be the same Padawan who had nearly abandoned Qui-Gon three horrible days before.

Mace and Yoda arrived eventually, ready if their assistance should be needed, and the healers pulled Obi-Wan's body from the tank, carefully lowering the still Padawan to a waiting medical bed. A healer removed Obi-Wan's breathing mask and Qui-Gon watched tensely, his own breath lodged somewhere in his throat, his stomach jerking painfully as Obi-Wan took his first few gasping, shuddering breaths on his own.

The familiar sound of his Padawan struggling to breathe was painfully recent to Qui-Gon, and he swallowed convulsively against the gut-clenching worry that made him step forward and lay a hand on Obi-Wan's pale shoulder. The bare skin under his callused fingers was reassuringly warm, but it did little to ease Qui-Gon's emotional burden.

He waited, patiently, mechanically, until the Chief Healer nodded in satisfaction and offered him a warm smile; they had actually become quite good friends over the years as she had cared for himself and Obi-Wan more times than Qui-Gon wanted to acknowledge at this moment.

He did allow a small, calming breath, releasing a little tension into the waiting caress of the Force as he walked quietly along, hand still on Obi-Wan's shoulder as a Healer carefully guided the hoverbed upon which Obi-Wan lay into one of the secluded rooms where Obi-Wan would sleep off the rest of the sedation. When the Padawan awoke, one quick checkup and then he was free to go, like nothing had happened.

Qui-Gon swallowed hard against the knot in his throat. Like nothing had happened.

Unwanted anger surged through the Jedi Master at the words echoing mockingly through his mind – like _**hell**_ nothing had happened! Something _**had **_happened: Qui-Gon had almost lost his Padawan _**again**_.

The Healer glanced up at him in concern, startled by the unexpected shift in the air. _Be calm_, he instructed himself sternly, calling on the Force and wrapping himself in warm bands of tranquility as he struggled to focus all of his attention on his Padawan.

Qui-Gon painstakingly assisted the Healer in moving Obi-Wan's lax body, now covered with a thin sheet, onto a stationary bed. The Healer smiled at Qui-Gon and nodded before making her exit and Qui-Gon took over carefully, filling the basin he had prepped with warm water from a small sink in the corner of the room. He set about gently cleaning the clinging bacta from his Padawan's face and hair with a warm, damp cloth, dipping the cloth in the warm water and threading meticulously through Obi-Wan's short hair. While his body drifted through the routine of cleaning Obi-Wan up, Qui-Gon allowed his mind to wander as he took in the still form of his Padawan.

It wasn't just the significant patch of discolored skin on Obi-Wan's right flank that bothered him; it was the jagged scar on the inside of his Padawan's left forearm that he lightly ran the damp cloth along, and the long, poorly-healed welt down Obi-Wan's back that hadn't faded.

It was the calluses on each finger that Qui-Gon slowly scrubbed and across the palms of Obi-Wan's slim hands.

It was the surgery Obi-Wan had had at seventeen to repair a damaged kneecap, and the multitude of cuts, scrapes, and bruises that Qui-Gon had tended over the years. It was the myriad of scars that covered his Padawan's young body from when they hadn't made it to a bacta tank in time. Qui-Gon's own body was decorated much the same, and he wondered, as he did in these quiet moments, if it was worth it, worth getting involved in everyone else's problems – whether they wanted the help or not. Was it worth risking his Padawan's life as often as happened? Was it worth the pain of not being able to follow when Obi-Wan trod near death's door with the alarming frequency that he did?

At times like this, gently scrubbing down the ravaged body of a young man who had always and would always choose duty over self, Qui-Gon wasn't so sure that it was.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Obi-Wan was lying silently in bed, staring listlessly at the ceiling when Qui-Gon returned that evening, having been forcefully ejected by Yoda and told not to return until he'd eaten something and rested for at least a short while.

Qui-Gon had presumed that approximately twenty minutes counted as a 'short while,' despite the disapproving look Yoda gave him when he returned less than an hour after he'd been thrown out. With a gentle smile and words that Qui-Gon didn't overhear, Yoda gave Obi-Wan's knee a pat and made his exit.

Obi-Wan looked better, Qui-Gon noted, though the dark circles that hung tellingly under his tired eyes stood out prominently in the pinched whiteness of his face. His expression had the set that Qui-Gon had come to associate with Obi-Wan having been deep in thought over something, and he wasn't disappointed when his query of 'how are you feeling, Padawan?' was met with a shrug and the polite question:

"May I ask you something, Master?"

Qui-Gon settled gracefully into the chair near the bed. "Of course, Padawan," he replied genially. "Whatever you like."

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed, confusion etched into his voice. "It's about the Code, Master. I don't … I don't remember much about what happened, but I remember you kept asking me to recite the code."

"That's right," Qui-Gon nodded. "I was trying to keep you awake."

Obi-Wan nodded in reply. "Right. Well … I know that I didn't make it to the last verse, but I remember that you were very sad, Master; I remember that you were crying because I was ... was ..."

And Qui-Gon understood where Obi-Wan's halting questioning was going.

"What is the last line of the Jedi Code, Obi-Wan?" he asked quietly.

"_There is no death, there is the Force,"_ Obi-Wan recited obediently, his familiar furrow firmly settled in place.

"That's right," Qui-Gon laid a gentle hand on his Padawan's arm, catching his gaze pointedly. "And while that is true, you should never be too far from your heart, Obi-Wan."

"I don't think I quite follow you, Master," Obi-Wan said, the discomfort in his tone not unexpected to Qui-Gon; The Jedi Master knew that he was treading dangerous ground as the words he had said and was about to say to Obi-Wan now were not exactly Council-approved. But he also knew that Obi-Wan would understand what he was trying to convey.

"What I'm saying, Padawan, is that it's impossible to not feel _**anything**_ at all unless you're a droid – and maybe not even then," he said lightly, with a smile, sincerity still tempering his words. "I cannot let my emotions control me, but that doesn't mean I won't allow myself to feel them."

Obi-Wan nodded, his eyes fixed firmly on his nervously twisting fingers. Qui-Gon hooked a finger under his Padawan's chin until Obi-Wan's reluctant gaze met his.

"Obi-Wan, when a Jedi becomes oblivious to emotion, he's out of touch. Trying _**not**_ to feel … it's impossible to do that and still be whole. I cried because my heart was breaking at the thought of losing you." He tapped Obi-Wan's cheek gently. "I never want to feel that way again, so please be more careful, Padawan."

Obi-Wan smiled wryly, finally relaxing a little. "I never mean for these things to happen, Master."

Though the Padawan's comment was meant to be light-heartened, Qui-Gon felt a sharp pain crowd his throat, tightening on the next words he uttered.

"I know, Obi-Wan."

But they **_did_** happen, and that was the problem.

"Obi-Wan… " he said slowly, "are you happy to be a Jedi?"

"Of course," Obi-Wan said promptly. "I am honored to be called a Jedi."

"But you almost _**died**_, Obi-Wan."

"But I didn't," Obi-Wan smiled. "And if I had, Master, it would have been the will of the Force."

Qui-Gon was struck by the warm light of wisdom in the clear grey eyes that gently looked back at him, and he was not surprised when, for just a moment, Obi-Wan became the teacher, and he was a student once again.

"We cannot choose what happens to us, Master," Obi-Wan murmured softly, conviction strong in his voice. "Our task is to choose what we will do with what we are given. Do we take the easier course and hide in shadow because we are content to merely exist? Or do we strive to be illuminated as the best version of ourselves that we are able to be?"

Qui-Gon's smile broke like dawn through his mourning, through all of the ache that had been his world for several days and he tousled Obi-Wan's drying hair lovingly; Obi-Wan gave him a longsuffering look, but Qui-Gon couldn't explain that he _**needed**_ to touch his Padawan, needed to keep reminding himself that Obi-Wan's skin was warm, and not the horrid chilling cold that he had been when Qui-Gon had last held him.

"When did you get so wise, Little One?" he asked curiously.

"I learn from the best," Obi-Wan returned with a smile.

"I'm flattered," Qui-Gon returned dryly, pleased despite himself, relieved that the knot of tension was slowly dissipating though he knew it would never go away completely, not as long as Obi-Wan lived and would be in harm's way.

"Oh, I was referring to Master Yoda," Obi-Wan grinned serenely. "You try to teach me _**not**_ to follow the Code."

"I'm hurt, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon sulked just a little, but he really couldn't deny that he more often than not disagreed with the strict rules.

"And of course I'm just teasing, Master," Obi-Wan leveled a serious gaze at the seated Jedi Master. "You teach me to think for myself."

The words filled Qui-Gon with a quiet pride and he was once again amazed that he had been blessed to have such a perceptive, kind Padawan.

"Thank you, Obi-Wan," he said simply. "Shall we go home?"

"Until the next time," Obi-Wan nodded in wry agreement, a furrow again dipping his brow. "But I need my clothes, please."

Qui-Gon couldn't help himself. "Why?" he questioned innocently. "It's not like everyone here hasn't already seen … all you have to offer, Padawan."

"What??" Obi-Wan looked properly mortified as he gripped the sheet that had pooled around his naked waist and glanced quickly under it as if to confirm the horrified blush staining across his cheeks was indeed appropriate. "You mean I was _**naked **_in there, Master??_** The**_ _**whole time**_??"

"Well, you had a breathing mask on," Qui-Gon pointed out, his sides quivering helplessly as he struggled to keep from laughing aloud.

"Oh, Force," Obi-Wan slunk down on the bed, pulling the sheet up over his head. "Never mind. I'll just stay here."

"At least you'd be safe," Qui-Gon pointed out.

And despite Obi-Wan's earlier wise words, Qui-Gon couldn't keep himself from thinking that that wouldn't be such a bad thing, after all.

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The end. please let me know what you think!


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